Page 52 of Monsters, Vows, and Growls
And promptly growled at a squirrel.
Everyone froze.
The squirrel, to its credit, launched into a tree with Olympic-level grace.
Alex bared his tiny milk teeth, grumbled something unintelligible, then stood up again, brushing off his knees like nothing had happened and continuing down the aisle like a professional.Chuckles rippled through the guests. Patrick’s lips twitched from trying hard not to laugh. Alex reached us with his chest puffed out, holding the ring pillow like a knight might a sacred relic. He offered it up with two hands and a very serious expression.
“I didn’t even maul the squirrel.”
Patrick nodded gravely. “That’s very noble of you, Alex.”
“Thanks. I practiced.”
Then he wandered off to find his mom, who immediately crouched and hugged him like he’d just returned from war.
The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur. Patrick kissed me, that's all I remember, that, and the loud cheers of our guests. Then we were ushered away for some pictures. We opted out of the congratulatory part; it seemed silly for people to line up justto shake our hands. Instead, they approached us when we made our way to the tables where food would be served shortly.
She lookedlike magic walking down that aisle.
I’d imagined it a hundred times over the years. Wondered how it would feel to have her walk toward me. What kind of dress she’d wear. Whether she’d smile, or cry, or trip on her veil and blame me somehow.
But I’d never imaginedthis.
Not the way her eyes locked on mine, filled with love and trust. Not the way the sunlight caught on her veil like it had been dipped in stardust. Not the way I actually forgot to breathe until dad placed her hand in mine and my lungs remembered how to work.
She was radiant. Untouchable.Mine.
Thorne rumbled low and satisfied in my chest.We did good. Mate looks like something out of a forest myth. We are not worthy.
Speak for yourself, I muttered silently, even though I agreed with him. We were not worthy of this vision of a bride. But I would do my damndest trying.
Oh, I am. But you? You’re just lucky she didn’t wise up and marry a lion shifter.
I choked on a laugh I had to swallow, because the officiant had just asked us to repeat our vows. Somewhere betweenin sickness and in healthand 'til death do us part, I remembered every reason I ever loved her.
Now we were seated at the long, candlelit harvest table on the reception lawn. Ella was beside me, still glowing, her dress somehow more beautiful in the golden haze of early evening. Everything smelled like peonies and roasted garlic and cedarwood. I reached for her hand again. I still had a hard time accepting that I could do this. Anytime. She was the only person in the world who could revoke that right, and I would do everything to never give her a reason to.
“Mrs. McCloud,” I said, for the fifth time in ten minutes.
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. “You going to say that all night?”
“I’m thinking of having it tattooed.”
She snorted into her wine.
“My wife,” I added, with the same kind of reverence people usually reserve for miracle healings and chocolate lava cake.
“I was there,Patrick.” She reminded me with a slight jab and a smile that rocked my heart.
“You looked like something I wasn’t sure I’d earned.”
Her hand squeezed mine.
“You did,” she said softly. “You do.”
The caterers brought out our plates — Ella’s custom menu, of course, down to the handmade sourdough rolls and thyme butter carved into tiny pinecones.
We’d barely started eating when a fork clinked against a glass.
